The Eagle and Falcon
by Ayrianna
Summary: Modern AU: Malik never wanted to go to that stupid party. He never wanted to see HIM again. Fate however has different plans, will Malik and Altair ever be able to reclaim what they once had? Alt/Mal mainly.  Boy Love Warning


**The Eagle and Falcon**

**Authors note:** Soooo this is sorta kinda my first Assassins Creed fan fiction. Well god actually its like one of the only ones I have done since I was little really and still writing for anime's I liked. This story IS going to be boy love in the future. I want to tell you now that it wont be Malik X OC or anything like that. I am totally smitten at the pairing of Alt/Mal. I've been inspired by some deviantart artist to write, one in particular being Allahdammnit. Omgsogreatyoudon'tevenknow. Sooooo here's to it. Comments welcomed and encouraged, and hopefully nothing to harsh.

**The Falcon:**

That gaze. Damn that penetrating, seemingly all knowing gaze. "Tell me." A tan hand runs through short dark hair. A curt reply is given to the statement given. "Tell you what?" Eyes searched his own, resisting the urge to squirm he averted his gaze else where. Damn those all knowing eyes. Again that voice, rough, yet firm called out to him.

"You know what. Now tell me." His lips pulled to a slight smirk as his gaze found its way back to the owner of those eyes. "I have no idea what you are rambling on about."

He watched as pale lips, marred only by two silvery rings next to each other formed into a delightful scowl. His eyes moved to watch the man before him as a pale hand ran through black hair. He looked into his eyes, dark emerald green with hints of blue, another silver stud above the eyebrow.

"You're no fun Malik. You realize if you don't tell me now I'll find out later anyway." Malik however scoffed at this notion and waved away the comment with his good hand. "Stop being difficult Julian." The man in question frowned a bit seemingly having trouble to find a witty enough retort, only to end up with what could be considerably described as word vomit. "You're face…is … difficult."

Malik sighed, not daring to chuckle, and watched his roommate stand, getting up from his seat across from him at the kitchen table. Julian, he had to admit grudgingly, was impressive if not a little childish for his age. Two years Malik's senior at 27 and he could only come up with 'your face is difficult.'. Though this didn't make him impressive obviously, childishness rarely does.

No, what made him impressive was how he carried himself. Julian was 6'5 fairly lanky if not built, pale skin, had cropped black hair, and like Malik only had one arm. His left one to be exact. Just the opposite of Malik.

They had met in high school thanks to an overly eccentric irish friend. At the time, Julian had both his arms, but never had he looked awkwardly toward Malik's missing one. His gaze was kinder then, his dreams sweeter. "Malik.." He could still hear the softness in which he used to call his name, hell anyone's name it was in his nature. "Malik…" Sometimes he felt so sorry for Julian, knew what had happened to him was tragic. "MALIK!"

He was immediately snapped out of his revere by the harsh tone to his friends voice. The man in question had obviously been getting irked by the lack of attention the conversation at hand was getting. Giving a light cough to cover up the embarrassment he grinned and said. "I'm sorry what?"

Julian only sighed unable to help himself. "I **ASKED **if you are going to accompany me to night to that party Ezio is holding." Well there went Malik's reasonably good mood. His grim fell almost instantaneously to a scowl. "Oh **HELL **no. Do you not know what that Auditore is like? It's fucking frat boy and ding bat central over there! I for one don't feel up to being pointed at like some sort of freak tonight."

Julian however, just stared him down and Malik inwardly cursed at his choice of words. He half expected Julian to turn away, sometimes the man was just as sensitive about his arm as Malik. Yet, he just waved his bad arm (perhaps just for emphasis), Malik noticing it gone just before the elbow, as if it were still there. Unlike Malik, even if he was picky sometimes, the man did not care to hide it.

"Then use one of my prosthetics. You are going to go to this party and get that stick outta your ass." Malik grit his teeth holding back a rude comment about places the man himself could shove said stick. Though this was just another thing that added to his resume of impressive. The fake limbs he made and used were some of the most technologically advanced Malik had seen, damn rich kids and their damn bottomless trust funds. At least that was Malik's theory.

He watched, ignoring his friends ramblings on why he should go, as Julian placed on what looked almost exactly like an medieval shinning black gauntlet that connected to a jointed elbow down to the fingers, twitching and moving as if the flesh were just beneath it. It marveled him how Julian also refused to publish any of his works, something about not liking attention drawn to him. Whatever it was, it wasn't Malik's problem. "You know it baffles me the ungodly amount of money you seem to obtain for your projects Juju."

The man, who had been mostly ranting at himself at this point, was caught off guard momentarily and chuckled a response. "I can't help it if people just like to throw their money at me." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively for good measure. "But in all seriousness Malik, your ass is going to this fucking party."

Malik couldn't fight the nasty snarl that snapped out from between his teeth. "And why the fuck should I?" He watched as a gauntlet finger tapped at the mans stubbled chin, earning said man a shiver. Fuck those things were creepy.

"Other than the fact I've asked nicely? Gotten all spiffy and snazzy? Will be alone surrounded by god knows how many people I will end up hating? Or for the sake of tormenting you?" There was a slight pause as a rich Gaelic laugh erupted forth from Julian, showing his heritage. Julian had lived in Ireland most of his life till certain circumstances had him move back with his father in America. Damn the man it just made him more appealing. Asshole.

"Because sweet lil' o'l Allora will be attending! She invited me you know, and you too. Are you going to brush off one of the few people that can stand your scathing tongue?" Malik bit back a curse. Damn. Allora was a common friend of theirs, a damn good one. Remember mention of a certain eccentric friend introducing the two males? Yeah she's the one. Crimson red hair, beautiful almost lime green eyes, and freckles everywhere the eye could and even couldn't see. She was known for being a good friend, a harsh enemy, and someone both Julian and Malik enjoyed having around.

An exasperated sigh left Malik's lips, he knew he was defeated. "Ugh! Fine fine! That's dirty, getting her to force me." An aggravating smirk graced Julian's face. "It worked though didn't it?" How many ways could one kill a roommate? He could always claim self defense. Against another one armed man? Probably not too plausible…

"Oh and Malik?"

This brought yet another sigh from said man, he could feel a slight headache forming already. Damn he better get shit faced tonight. "Yeah?"

"You still didn't tell me. Boxers or briefs?"

Fucking. Aggravating.

**The Eagle:**

He could feel his teeth grinding hard in irritation with each passing word. "Come on stop being so stubborn!" He could be as stubborn as he damn well pleased! He looked at his cousin with a glare that had made lesser men cower. At least he had that going for him. "All I'm asking is for you to help me damn it! Is that so much to fucking ask?" A tanned hand scratched at a scar almost identical to his own.

If you didn't know them too well you could call them twins, though in all honesty there were obvious points to show otherwise. Where as his cousin was decently tanned, he was not. Where as his cousin had a tattoo up his arm, he did not. Where as his cousin had an irritating whinny voice that made him want to strangle the man sometimes, his own was generally cold, or sour. "Why?"

The man in front of him scowled, obviously annoyed and at his breaking point. "Because Altair, Shaun is going and I need someone there to look out for him. What if some girl tries to hit on him, OR worse another man? I would knock that fucker out so fast…" Altair rolled his eyes.

"Desmond you have some mutual friends of Shaun that can hel-" He was interrupted, earning Desmond an eye twitch, by a grumble of irritation. "They can't make it tonight and fucking Ezio has me bar-tending most of the night. Come on man you know family helps family right?" This only earned Desmond one very annoyed, and very cold golden stare.

Desmond gulped a bit, damn those eyes were almost Eagle like. Predatory in nature, beautiful, and fucking dangerous.

"For being in your mid twenties you are acting really childish….and womanly." Altair wore a triumphant grin as he watched Desmond flare beat red, obviously pissed off at being called a woman. Just as Desmond went to try and beat his Syrian cousins' face in, the two men winced simultaneously as their very loud, and ridiculously happy Italian cousin burst through the door. "_Ciao cugini! _Are you two ready for yet another amazing party?"

This earned him two sets of golden angry glares. "_Merda! _I forget at times how alike you two bastards look."

Altair muttered a arabic curse at the man and sighed rubbing his temple with one hand. "Ezio I am not going to your stupid fucking party." Desmond in response to this turned his gaze soft, puppy mode engaged, on Ezio, pleading the man to help sway their stubborn cousins mind. Ezio however, needed no encouragement, though it helped, and narrowed his eyes staring at Altair. "What? Oh no no no you're going."

As if on cue, perhaps even at the same moment as someone elsewhere, he snapped. "And why the fuck should I?" Though this only brought out a challenge from Ezio, who gave him his suavest of smiles. He had seen that smile get Ezio anything and anyone he wanted. Fucking Italian prick. It wasn't going to work on him damn it! "Because Allora is coming and I-" Altair blinked a few times interrupting him.

"You invited the irish mafia to your party _why _exactly?" Desmond had an equally perplexed look and voiced his own concerns. "Hey man, I know you like a challenge and all but that's fucking stupid."

"_Adesso vi soon sia cosi-poca fede!_" Ezio snapped. "First off, one iris girl with, questionable I agree, connections **isn't **the same as inviting the whole irish mafia to the house. Secondly, I did it because she is bringing a few bottles of that cinnamon whiskey. Lastly however, and I thought you would enjoy this Altair," this brought a raised eyebrow from said man. "she is bringing other people with her."

Altair and Desmond scoffed. Why Ezio thought that the last part in particular would change Altair's decision was lost to them. "I don't see how this is supposed to entice me to go. Actually, now I have a fuck ton of reasons **not **to go. In fact, no I'm defiantly not going. If you two want to host yet another troublesome party, do it without me." At this Altair stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair.

Damn cousins and their idiot antics. One of these days, he would be called over to the police station because one of them did something so stupid…He ignored the defeated look on Desmonds' face, he really didn't care at the moment, though he paused momentarily at the triumphant look on Ezios'. Well what a smug bitch thinking he won.

He was moving to the door, his hand almost at the handle, freedom just on the other side when Ezio said something to give him pause. "Too bad, Allora said she invited her one armed friend." A hiss, probably from Desmond or maybe himself, went through the room. Fuck. Fuck fuck. "Malik."

Ezio shrugged at this leaning back in a comfortable chair himself. "Didn't get a name but-"

Altair growled his fist moving to against the wall, his knees shaking. "Fine." He heard himself whisper pathetically. "Fine I'll go to your stupid party." He didn't care for the hollers of joy Desmond made, he didn't care for the questioning/worried even/ look that his cousin gave him as he left to greet the quiet streets that they called home. How long had it been since he had seen Malik? Touched his ex - lovers hand, seen him smile. Too long.

He hummed to himself as he continued on his way, his heart pounding in his chest. He would get some drinks for tonight then come back to get ready. To face the crowd. To face, Malik.


End file.
